“I can’t believe they ordered a dick cake.” Garrison’s eyes flit to the box on my lap. It indeed has a cake inside. Shaped like a giant penis.
Garrison’s hand tightens on his Mustang’s steering wheel, driving back from the bakery. His eyes meet mine briefly, and his brows rise. “It was a choice.”
We’re both near laughter. “Did you expect anything less from them?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.” He glances from the box to me. “You want me to carry it in?”
“No, I can do it.” Though that does cause a wave of anxiety, but I want to push through it for Daisy. It’s her birthday after all. My eyes flit to the clock. We’re running behind. Traffic near the bakery was a nightmare. Luckily, it’s mostly cleared up now.
Garrison follows my gaze. “Hold on.”
He accelerates, speeding all the way to the gated neighborhood.
“I don’t know if I can eat that,” Lily says, eyes narrowed as Ryke cuts the head of the…dick cake.
The eight of us pack into Connor and Rose’s enormous kitchen, fit with state-of-the-art appliances. I’ve chosen a nice alcove by the expensive toaster.
It’s the furthest spot from Ryke.
Ever since I found out he’s my brother, I’ve been avoiding him. I haven’t even spoken about Jonathan Hale (AKA my dad) since my conversation with Lo.
Change is hard.
But this change feels monumental, and I know I’m taking the cowardly route by dodging the reality. But we can’t all be Dorothy in the Land of Oz—brave and bold. At least, not all the time.
I’ve let this avoidance fester so long that anytime Ryke tries to talk to me, it’s this big awkward mess. Ryke Meadows is like a brooding, teeth-bared wolf, unapproachable and protectively menacing, and that’s just how I felt before he became my brother.
Now that we’re related, I can barely step a pinky toe in his direction without cowering. It’s ten times worse.
I never saw him filling this brotherly role in my life, and since I’m dating Garrison—that’s two brothers I have with opinions on my very first relationship.
It’s a lot.
Ryke looks to Lily and says, “It’s just a fucking cake.”
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Garrison’s shoulder presses right next to mine. It’s nice that anytime I’m invited to something, he’s automatically invited too. We’re a pair now. And even though I never felt like a seventh wheel with the core six, him being with me brings this sense of completion. Like it was always meant to be eight.
Garrison leans casually against the refrigerator, an unlit cigarette peeking from the pocket of his leather jacket. His eyes are on me. Mine on him. It’s hard to set them anywhere else when I feel the most comfort swallowed up in his orbit.
“Why’d you take so long?” Lo asks accusingly.
Garrison swings his head to my brother. “We pulled over to fuck,” he says dryly.
Oh…God.
I am used to his sarcasm, but not in front of my brothers. Not like this.
Ryke’s jaw hardens. Lo’s sharpens.
I choke on a breath. “We…didn’t.”
“They know that,” Garrison tells me.
Connor makes a pot of coffee. “It’s as though you want them to hate you.” That actually might be true. I think he feels undeserving of their kindness, so he pushes them away.
Garrison pauses before saying, “That’s stupid.”
“You said it, not me,” Connor states.
“Who wants the head?” Daisy asks, raising a plate with a slice of cake. I give her an appreciative look for the interjection and then spin towards the freezer, grabbing a tub of vanilla ice cream.
“I’m trying to remember why I like you,” Lo tells Garrison, ignoring Daisy, “but it’s all clouded by an image of me stabbing you, so be lucky I’m not holding a goddamn knife right now.”
Garrison almost smiles. “You still like me?”
I caught that too. My spirits lift.
Lo enunciates, “Me stabbing you to death. Value your own life for me, so you can at least be kind of frightened.”
I focus on opening the tub of ice cream—helping out and distracting myself—and then I lean into Daisy’s ear to whisper, “I’m so embarrassed.”
Daisy hugs my side and says even softer, “They love you, you know?”
I glance to Ryke, but the second he turns towards me, I abruptly rotate back to Daisy. My brain is singing a song on a loop. It goes something like: Ryke Meadows is your big brother. He’s your brother. Older brother! He’s Ryke Meadows and you’ve got him as a brother! HE’S YOUR BROTHERRRRR!
My face flames and stomach churns.
I so clearly avoided his gaze, didn’t I? There was nothing smooth about it. I refocus on the ice cream. Tasks are good. Tasks keep me away from thinking about how awkward I am.
After I stick a spoon into the ice cream, I notice Rose handing Lily a middle portion of the cake. Lily shakes her head. “I can’t eat the shaft.”
“Lil.” Lo melds his body behind hers. “It’s cake.”
“It’s a penis.”
“No, love, this is a penis.” He takes her hand and places it on his crotch.
“Lo!” A smile accompanies her squeal.
I’m used to the overly flirtatious antics and PDA, but I’ve been roasting since I showed up to this party. Today is on a different level. I sidle back to Garrison.
“Daisy!” Ryke calls out, standing near the dick cake. Swiftly, he scoops the chocolate cake into his palm and chucks the hunk at her face. It splats against her nose and mouth and eyes, pink frosting dropping off her chin.
Her smile stretches. “This means war,” she warns.
“Come at me, Calloway.”
Daisy digs her hand into the cake and throws a hunk at Ryke. It hits him square in the cheek.
The food fight erupts, Lily and Lo joining in. Connor and Rose sip coffee by the pot, hand-in-hand, and remain out of the battle.
I back up into Garrison’s chest to avoid being pelted with a flying piece of cake. He wraps his arms over my collarbones, holding me.
Lo and Ryke are doing the most cake throwing, and one chunk finally pelts my shoulder, splattering my top with pink icing.
Garrison spins me around to face him. “You’ve got something on you,” he says, lips inching up.
“That’s because I was shielding you.”
His grin explodes. “And look at that, you did such a good job.” He places his hands on either side of my shoulders, and slowly, we do this dance maneuver. I follow his lead until I realize we’re just walking in a circle. Until his back is in the crossfire of cake.
He tells me, “Now it’s my turn to shield you.”
Warmth ascends. I block everyone else out.
He dips his finger into the icing on my shoulder and then draws on my cheek. I can feel the shape he creates. A heart.
My pulse slows down like it’s drunk. Intoxicated.
I swipe some icing with my finger and reach up to his cheek. He dips his head so that I can reach. I draw a star on his fair skin.
We’re a breath apart, his face closer to mine.
“Willow,” he whispers so softly. “Can I kiss you?”
There is no hesitation. No question.
I know in my heart I’m ready.
“Yes,” I breathe. I feel the sudden flare of anxiety that comes with doing something new, but it fades as his lips draw to mine.
I close my eyes.
He’s soft and gentle, and his palms hold the small of my back, pressing me close. Eagerness zips through my veins. Pulsing in places that have never really been lit up by someone. I lean closer, and he matches the movement, pinning me to the cabinet. Sparks ignite throughout every inch of my body.
But then I remember I have hands.
Those pesky appendages are just dangling like noodles at my sides. My heartbeat speeds up in unease. Where do I put these things?
Garrison must s
ense my sudden apprehension, and he breaks from my lips for a millisecond. Just long enough for his eyes to caress mine.
Quickly, he just drops his hands off me and takes my palms in his. He guides them to the back of his head, and his baseball hat tumbles to the floor.
Oh…that’s where they should go.
But he doesn’t make me feel silly for not knowing. Instead, he presses a soft hand to my cheek and returns to my lips.
Our eyes close again, and he deepens the kiss, edging my mouth open. A soft noise catches in the back of my throat. One that I don’t even know if he heard. But I cling harder to Garrison all the same. I follow his lead until he breaks away for breath. Forehead pressed to mine.
“That was my first kiss,” I whisper to him.
He smiles. “I know.” His eyes dance around me, trying to read my body language. I wouldn’t even be able to translate it for him. “Did you like it?”
“Yes,” I say, my body heating up from truth. “A lot. I think…I think we should do it again sometime.”
“Definitely. But later,” he agrees. “When we’re not in a room with your brothers.”
My brothers.
Oh shit.
I forgot about them. In fact, I forgot all about the other six people in the kitchen. I glance past Garrison’s chest. Daisy and Ryke are lost in each other’s eyes, swaying to invisible, nonexistent music. Cake stuck in their hair and covering their arms.
Lily and Lo are MIA.
Connor and Rose have migrated to the couch, backs turned to us.
No one was watching us.
I’m not sure if that’s the real truth, but I’m going to the grave believing it.
37 BACK THEN – October
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
GARRISON ABBEY
Age 19
We’re huddled near the back of Connor Cobalt’s limo, my laptop propped open on the trunk. Water slowly trickles from a fountain in the yard. The Cobalt Estate is made for royalty. If their mansion could talk, it’d be calling all the other houses on the street “peasants.”
Cold bites my bare skin. My costume for this lovely Halloween: a red T-shirt, red slacks, and a red-horned headband.
I’m the devil.
All thanks to Loren Hale.
Halloween happens to land on his birthday. And yeah, I phrased it like that because after knowing the guy for this long, I don’t think the universe put his birthday on Halloween. It’s definitely the other way around.
As a present to Lo, we’ve all let him decide our costumes for the night.
Willow tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.
A circular gold wreath hovers over her head. Knee-length white dress and matching wings round out the outfit. An angel to my devil. I’m shocked. Not that Lo would choose something pure and perfect for Willow, but because he picked matching costumes for us.
It looks like we’re a couple.
We are.
But I didn’t think Loren Hale wanted to announce the fact to the world. Not like this. He still glares at me anytime I get within three inches of her lips. I get it. He’s overprotective of his sister, especially now that I’m dating her.
Willow and I are doing well, and that’s all that matters to me.
She glances at the opened laptop, an email server popped up next to a hacking software. But we haven’t been talking about that.
I’m stuck on news that recently came out. “I don’t get it. The artists and creators of The Fourth Degree must have smoked one too many joints. None of it makes sense. I shouldn’t have won.”
Willow moves closer to me to whisper, “You deserved to win. Your superhero was the best.” She says it like it’s so simple.
A while ago, Lily and Lo gave every Superheroes & Scones employee a chance to create a new superhero in The Fourth Degree universe.
The Fourth Degree is a wildly popular comic book series from Halway Comics. Vic Whistler (Extent) is the main character, but they’re diverging to new lines and opening up the entire world for more heroes, antiheroes, and villains.
The whole thing has been plaguing me ever since the winner was announced. I just…I don’t see how I won out of everyone who works there. People were making flow charts for this shit. It was a big deal.
If Lily was the judge, maybe I’d think she was taking pity on me, but no one in the store has ever talked to Belinda and Jackson Howell, the artists and creators of The Fourth Degree. It’s not like they could have played favorites.
Compared to the other employees, I shouldn’t have won. I barely read comics. Barely know the lore. I’m doing better than when I first showed up, but I’m not a walking encyclopedia like most of them.
My throat is dry. “I don’t know. Carter had a cool superhero.”
Willow’s face scrunches up. “His was basically a rip off of X-Men. And Maya was right when she called it a Walmart Pyro. You know, Maya even said if she had a vote, it would’ve been for Sorin-X. So it must be good. If you don’t believe anyone else, you have to believe her taste at least.”
Maya Ahn would have voted for my superhero…
Damn.
That hits me. Because Willow’s old roommate is the last person to feed you bullshit, and she probably has the most comics knowledge at Superheroes & Scones. More than anyone.
Sorin-X.
My creation is going to be an actual superhero. Or…more like an antihero. At least, that’s how I pitched him. He has teleportation powers linked to the proximity of the girl he loves. He can’t teleport more than four miles away from her. And he’s a recovering alcoholic.
Lo never gave me shit for it, since it’s kind of obvious I drew my inspiration from him. So that’s something.
I tap my computer screen. “This shouldn’t take me long. Maybe just tonight.” Daisy’s ex-friends have been finding ways to get her phone number, even after Daisy blocked them. They’ve been harassing her enough that she asked me for help. Hence, the laptop.
It sucks that the price of fame can be so cruel. Like past shitty friends coming back to make your life hell. Jealously eats people up in different ways, I guess. I wish that Daisy’s ex-friends could find their chill, take a hint and stop texting her.
Willow pushes up her glasses. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for Daisy, but…are you sure you want to? Isn’t it illegal?”
“Yeah, but is it really illegal if I’m doing it to help someone else?”
Willow ponders this for a second. “Um…that sounds like a trick question.”
Damn, she really is an angel. I lean in to kiss the top of her nose.
“Mother of dragons!” Lo yells at the Cobalt’s mansion.
We’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for Connor and Rose.
Dressed in a navy blue, silver, red Thor costume and a winged helmet, Daisy outstretches her plastic hammer towards Lily. “You stoleth thy lightsaber, you pesky fairy.”
Lily looks even ganglier in her Tinker Bell costume, green tutu dress and wings. She whips out a blue plastic beam. “Prepare to meet thy doom, Thor.” Lily and Daisy are grinning as the plastic weapons make contact.
Ryke gave Lily his lightsaber, and he also lent Daisy his blackish-brown robe. So now he’s just dressed in a tunic and pants. I nudge Willow’s shoulder and nod towards Ryke. “He still look like Anakin Skywalker to you?”
Willow grimaces and shakes her head. “Lo’s going to be upset. But Daisy is pregnant, so maybe he’ll understand that Ryke is trying to keep his pregnant wife warm.” Willow beams at the words pregnant and wife.
Daisy went through hell and back trying to get pregnant, and Willow’s happy for her best friend. Hell, I’m happy for Daisy. It’s hard not to want joy for someone who brings so much joy to other people.
It’s why I’m confused whenever anyone wants me to be happy. You know, why want that?
I point to my laptop screen, catching Willow’s attention. “I’m going for it.”
“I’ll bail you out of jail if anythi
ng goes wrong,” she says softly, smiling.
My lips lift.
“Devil!” Lo shouts at me from up the driveway.
I raise my gaze from the computer screen, unsurprised that I’m being given a nickname.
“You know what happens when an angel and a devil create a bodily union? The apocalypse.” Jesus this is why he gave us a couple costume. “Do the right thing and don’t end the world tonight.”
“That’s definitely not how that works,” I say dryly.
Lo looks to Ryke. “Do you hear this guy?”
“Yeah. I guess he doesn’t understand the fucking meaning of apocalypse. Want to spell it out for him?”
I cross my arms over my chest and give Ryke a look like, why do you have to be on my case too? Man, it royally sucks that Willow now has two brothers. One was enough since his name is Loren Hale. Adding Ryke into the mix is like throwing in barbed wire and explosives.
I’m not a fucking GI Joe doll. I’m not about to run through their obstacles with a smile and yes, sir.
It doesn’t help that Ryke doesn’t trust me. I see it in every inch of his I fucking hate you stance and his towering, broody ass glare.
“Apocalypse,” Lo defines, “also known as the end of your godforsaken, puny little life by the powers that be.”
“Also known as me,” Ryke chimes in.
“And me,” Lo finishes with a half-smile. “Welcome to hell.”
I barely blink. “I’ve seen scarier.”
Ryke’s brows jump in surprise. “Who?”
“My brothers.” I turn into my computer, a little shocked I even uttered those words. My abdomen tenses and I roll out my shoulders.
Whatever.
Lo and Ryke have dropped the whole overly protective brother routine, and Willow nudges my shoe with hers. “Sorry about them,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “It’s good they care about you.” If it were any other guy on the receiving end of their bullshit, I’d probably be applauding. Willow deserves people to care about her enough to grill whatever guy she’s with. I’m just the lucky asshole who gets her.
“They’re ten fucking minutes late now,” Lo complains. As soon as he says the words, the front door opens. Rose struts out first in a long, light-blue draped dress with a gold belt, along with a platinum blonde wig.
Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2) Page 30